With a smile, Marshall said, “I intend to make sure that he isn’t on the job market any time soon. Anyway, that’s not why you are here, is it?” It was a statement, not a question.
“No. I’d half-expected Romaine to try something stupid, it’s in his nature. Genetics got him his job, and genetics is going to give him an appointment with the next Proctor we run across. Or whatever you call them in the Confederation.”
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to do much more than a summary hearing at Hydra. We could probably do as much here if you want to get it over with.”
“It’s Fuller that I’m more concerned about. He can’t handle his drink, but usually he just sits in his cabin and pounds on the walls for a while. I know he didn’t agree with what we’re doing, but this is way out of character, even for him.” Looking up at Marshall, she said, “I’m in over my head here. I’ve never led a crew into battle before. They have a point – none of them signed up for this.”
“What about the rest?”
“Tarrant’s spending all his time thinking about the credits he’s going to make out of the deal you offered.” She paused for a second, then said, “That is in your power to grant, isn’t it?”
“Battlecruiser commanders spend most of their time – at least, these days – out beyond communications range. Even if I had a courier on hand, it would be two months before I got authorization for anything. As a result, at least at the moment, we have a rather wide variety of powers. It’s subject to review, of course, but with a shipping line up and running, I don’t think anyone’s going to complain.”
“I hope not,” she replied. “My crew are taking a hell of a risk, and they deserve a hell of a reward.”
“Ouroboros is certainly in my power to award. Payment for the use of your ship. There’s actually precedent during the war, most of the merchant shipping lines operated with impounded UN transports from the mega-corps that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most of them were handed out to keep essential supply lines open. With the benefit that this time, you aren’t going to run into commerce raiders. At least, I hope not.”
“And these Shrouded Stars?”
“All I know is that it is a run of five brown dwarves with fuel sources on two of them to let us refuel. Setting up the refining is going to be a long process; we can do it, but it’ll take weeks to process enough for the last jump. Don’t imagine I’m going to give you an easy ride.”
“I’ll think of something,” she said, shrugging. “Worst case I have a friend in high places who can help me sort out a bank loan.” With a smile, she continued, “I never thought I’d even get to command this ship, still less run a shipping line. Tarrant’s got no interest at all in it. He just wants to fly around the galaxy. So do I, but…”
“The challenge of trying to make something more of it appeals.”
Shrugging, she said, “Like I told you before, this way I’ll probably get to see a lot more interesting places than I otherwise would. I’m going to Sol this time, that much is certain.”
“I’ve got a lot of leave coming,” he replied. “Not that I’ll probably get to take much of it, but if you get out to Mariner Station while I’m there, I’ll show you around. Mars too. The vineyards in the Valles Marineris – miles and miles of covered dome, all of it green. There’s a part of it you can actually go camping in, off by yourself, but it costs a small fortune to reserve a spot.”
“Sounds nice. I haven’t spent much time on habitable worlds, mostly space stations and dome cities. The Cabal tends to keep its Earthlike worlds as second-class, behind the orbital facilities. Not much mixing.”
“And Golgotha?”
“Dome world just like the rest of them, occupied about eighty years or so. A bit like Titan, from what I’ve read of it. Thick, heavy atmosphere, dull oranges and reds all the time. Sometimes the storms would rattle the walls of the dome, and lighting would smash down all around us into the methane seas.” She smiled, and said, “I didn’t see green until I was old enough to go into one of the parks. What about you?”
“I was born on Earth, though I don’t remember much about it.”
“Earth?” she said, her eyes widening in wonder. “What was it like?”
“We left when I was about three, my parents emigrated to Mars when it became obvious there was going to be a showdown. It was cold, I remember the snowstorms in winter. Going outside and playing in it, without doing anything more than putting on a coat. Moving to Mars was quite a jolt, but it’s home, now. Sort of.”
“Home?”
“Only technically, I guess. About all I have there is a few bits and pieces in storage. My mother died in the first year of the war, in the merchant service, and my father…”
“Cantrell told me about him.”
Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Checking up on me, are you?”
“I was interested. Wanted to know what you were doing way out here. You really dropped everything to try and find your father?”
“And his crew. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to go into deep space in the first place. At least I’ve managed to pull that off.”
Smiling, she replied, “You’re worrying more about what’s going to happen when we get home than the battle we’ve got coming up. I can’t imagine that you have anything serious to worry about. After the havoc you’ve caused the Cabal, who is going to complain?”
“It isn’t just that. I’ve bent my orders in two to get the mission done, but I’ve stuck to the spirit every time. I just have a horrible fear that I’m going to get promoted when we get home.”
“That’s a problem?”
“Lieutenant-Captains command Battlecruisers. Fleet Captains command Carriers. There’s nothing in between except desk jobs. Three, six years stuck in administration before I have a chance of commanding anything again.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I agree, but there isn’t much I can do about it, except hope that when the chips fall I’m still sitting in Alamo’s command chair. I can hope, but that’s about all I can do.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I’m going to need someone to command Brunel once I get the shipping lines set up.”
He laughed, and said, “That would be a fantastic way to bring a Senate Oversight Committee down on both our heads. It’d look like I’d managed to arrange my own job.”
“Think about it, anyway. As a back-up, if nothing else.”
“No,” he replied. “The service is about the only home I’ve got now. I’ve been wearing a uniform since I turned seventeen, and I can’t see myself taking it off any time soon. It won’t be the first time I’ve suffered through a succession of terrible jobs.” Smiling, he said, “After the war, I spent a year decommissioning outposts. Five in a row, one after another. That was soul-destroying after a while.”
“What happened to them?”
“A couple of them were sold where there was some possibility of commercial use, the others were destroyed. I think one of them ended up being scrapped.”
“Destroyed?”
“No point asking for trouble and leaving them open. The UN made that mistake with an outpost on Nereid, once, back in the forties. Within a year it had become a home for every criminal enterprise outside the orbit of Saturn. They had to send two peacekeeper legions to clean it out.”
“Sounds like a fun place to visit. We’ve got a few of those out here.”
“I’ve been to Sinbad.”
“Tame compared to some out on the other borders. Everyone’s always been a bit wary out this far.”
“Why?”
“My great-uncle was a trade pioneer. It bankrupted him, but he did have some useful connections and a lot of fun stories out of those days. Hydra Station was commissioned partly as a base for explorations into the Outreach.”
“The Outreach?”
�
�The Cabal has always kept a task force in that region, long before they had any thought of heading towards Sol. There were disappearances, you see. About a dozen ships went in, but none of them came back. That’s what broke my great-uncle, he lost all of his investments. The last one was about forty years ago. Rumor was that the task force was there to see what was going on out there, but they never actually went.”
“I didn’t know about this.”
“Why should you? It’s old history, and embarrassing enough to all concerned that almost all the records were destroyed, or classified so high that almost no-one knew about it. If I hadn’t spent years listening to all the stories of strange alien hordes, I wouldn’t either.”
“Is he still alive?”
“No, died about fifteen years ago. Natural causes.” She paused, then said, “I miss him.”
“It explains why no-one ever settled Driftwind, I suppose.”
“That desert? No-one colonized that place because it isn’t worth colonizing. I’ve been there, remember. The only real reason anyone goes anywhere near Hydra is its proximity to the trade route to Spitfire Station, and even then, they might only get a few ships a year.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I still can’t quite believe that you were smuggling out of our territory before we even knew you existed.”
“No-one ever asked any questions about incoming traders there. I know a couple of people who managed to get as far as Sol on faked papers. I guess the good times are coming to an end now, though.”
With a smile, he said, “Not that your experience of trading out there is going to be of any use to you at all.”
“The problem’s in reverse, now. I’ll have trouble smuggling things back into the Cabal, not that I think I should be burdening a Triplanetary Captain with such a petty details.”
“As long as you don’t break the law in Triplanetary space, I don’t care what you do out there. Though that’s another reason for us to win the battle; it’s the best chance we’ve got of normalizing relations.”
“There I thought you were the blood-and-guts war-at-any-cost sort of leader.”
His face dropping, he replied, “I’ve seen too much blood and guts at far too little cost to think that way. Ask anyone who fought in the last war how eager they are to fight another one. We’ll go to battle if it is necessary, don’t get me wrong, but if we can prevent that from happening, we’ll take it.”
“We’re back to the battle again, aren’t we.” She looked around the room, then back at Marshall, saying, “Give me the honest truth, Danny. What are our chances of getting through this in one piece?”
“Fifty/fifty. The same as any battle. We’ll live or we’ll die, and there’s only so much we can do to break the odds in our favor. There’s nothing to say that someone on Dauntless won’t decide that we’re worth a few missiles, and a salvo would just about finish us off. We need to do enough damage to influence the outcome of the battle in our favor without making them break off their attack on Alamo.”
“I was expecting a speech about how we were going to be triumphant, that I shouldn’t worry about the outcome of the battle and that everything would be alright.”
“You wanted me to lie to you? What would be the point in that? We’re going into the middle of a battle zone with a freighter, and that’s not a safe place to be with a battlecruiser. I’ll be riding the helm all the way, and I think I still remember enough tricks to give us a fighting chance – and from what Cooper tells me, Cantrell is a dynamite hacker – but that’s the largest capital ship I’ve ever fought out there. I won’t dismiss it lightly.” He smiled, then said, “Though Alamo will give it a fight it will never forget. That much I will guarantee. I just wish…”
“That you were commanding it yourself?”
“Got it in one,” he replied, nodding. “Oh, there are three or four other people on board who are qualified to command, who would do a good job, but I should be at the heart of the battle. Instead of being stranded here.”
“I could put you in a shuttle, you might be able to get across in time.”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’ll be needed on the helm here, and by the time I could get to Alamo, all the key decisions would have been made. Those first five minutes are going to be critical for us.”
“You’ve got it all mapped out in your head, haven’t you.”
“Occupational hazard of the trade. The question is whether what I have in mind corresponds with what the enemy has in store for us.” Grimacing, he continued, “There are just so many damn unknowns. I don’t know how the repairs have gone on Alamo, I don’t know what the status of the orbital defense network is...I know more about the situation on Dauntless right now,” he said, gesturing at the datapad.
“Tell me something. Are you going to learn any of that sitting in here, staring at those figures for the hundredth time?”
“No, probably not.”
“And will it give you some sort of astounding insight into the battle we’ll be fighting nine days from now?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the point of sitting in here and worrying about it?”
Standing up, he smiled, and said, “None at all. Tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you. If you stop worrying, so will I.”
“Deal.”
“Liar,” he said.
Chapter Nineteen
The view of space around Driftwind was getting far too familiar to Orlova; she looked up at the holographic display, Nelyubov standing beside her. Ouroboros was out at the nearest hendecaspace point, exiled to picket duty by the Major; she shook her head as she calculated the probable survival time of the ship should anything significant appear. About all that Zebrova would be able to do would be to cut and run. An amber flash appeared nearby; one of the orbital defense satellites seemed to be drifting out of position.
Tapping a control, she said, “You see that?”
Nodding, he replied, “I’m getting the same from two others, as well. Damn, there must be something wrong with the mutual guidance system again. That’s the third time this week.”
“Orlova to Quinn.”
The engineer replied, “What’s up?”
“Problem with the satellites. Can you take a look?”
There was a brief delay before he replied, “I’m in those systems right now. Not showing any errors, everything is in the green.”
“My board shows that they are drifting out of position, Jack.”
“I don’t get it.” She could hear the sound of barking orders on the fringes of the microphone’s pickup range, then, “We’ll get to work on it. I’ll move them back into position manually for the moment.”
“Right.” She tapped a control, then focused onto the planet again, looking at the scar where the nuclear explosion had taken place. “Nine days and we still can’t get close.”
“That was a pretty damn dirty bomb,” Nelyubov replied. “Even in suits, it might be weeks. Besides, there won’t be anything left.”
“I’m not so sure. That complex we saw was deep. Any progress on the writing?”
With a smile, he said, “Carpenter’s been working non-stop from her bed since she regained consciousness. Still nothing, though. We just don’t have a big enough sample to work with. Maybe when we get back…”
The communicator crackled again, and Orlova replied, “Astrogation here. Go ahead.”
“Maggie, get down here,” Duquesne’s voice yelled. She could hear shouting in the pick-up, and she continued, “The Neander’s woken up.” The link went dead, and she looked up at Nelyubov.
“Come on.”
They ran out of the room, pausing for only a moment to pull two pistols from one of the corridor units, and sprinted past a pack of technicians on their way to the elevator, the guns still in their hands. Orlova reached the elevator first, slamming the button
to send it down towards sickbay, Nelyubov dodging through the doors just in time. She paused for a second, then pulled out her communicator.
“Orlova to Forrest. Any of your men on Alamo?”
“No, Lieutenant,” he replied after a pause. “We’re all over here on the station. Want me to send someone?”
Nelyubov grimaced, and Orlova replied, “No point. It’ll be finished by the time you arrive. Better stay on stand-by, though, and get a shuttle ready for launch.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I wish I knew, Sergeant. Orlova out.”
Nelyubov shook his head, “Curse of being short-handed. We should never have spread them around so far.” He looked down at his pistol and continued, “What the hell happened to the guard on the door?”
“That’s what worries me. Better be ready.”
The two of them stepped from the elevator, pistols out, and walked into sickbay to find Major Marshall standing over the Neander, the guard by his side, and Duquesne hovering in a corner, red-faced, her hands shielding a medical control panel.
“Lieutenant, what are you doing here?”
“The Doctor sent for me,” she replied, lowering her pistol. “I had the strong impression that there was something wrong.” The Neander was awake, and his eyes locked with hers. There was no anger or hatred, just terror. “What happened?”
“This bastard is trying to get me to turn off the pain medication.”
“Only so I can question him,” the Major said.
“Don’t backpeddle, you son of a bitch. I’ve got you recorded.” Turning to Orlova, she said, “He thinks that the pain might convince him to talk.”
Nelyubov looked away, and Orlova replied, “Is this true, Major?”
“Damn it, Maggie, this is the only lead we have left. He tried to kill you, for God’s sake, and was probably involved in the deaths on the planet, as well as the attack on Carpenter. Before we can leave this station, we must find out what is going on, and I don’t have time to be nice or follow the rules.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: The First Duty Page 18